


Concerto No. 5

by qgmon



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Ballroom Scene, F/F, are you leading or am i?, before ep3 so clearly i'm pretending it's not a thing, horny hours, i think we're all losing our minds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:40:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23841646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qgmon/pseuds/qgmon
Summary: She smiles. Your heart drops to the floor. If they listened carefully, you’re sure everyone in the room could hear it crash. That’s all you can hear - where has the music gone? An echo of it in your ears, ringing like a symphony to the beat of your thumping brain. Concerto No. 5.Kiss or kill?•••The ballroom scene, inspired by that damn title and ‘I can’t stop thinking about you’.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 22
Kudos: 105





	Concerto No. 5

**Author's Note:**

> I have one brain cell left, it's official. 
> 
> "Are you leading or am I?" is the greatest episode title of all time and I had to write something because this has been on my mind for a while and the damn title just gave me the damn push that I needed. 
> 
> Written before ep3, I'm clearly pretending it's not happening. For now.
> 
> Enjoy. x

_I’m so much happier now she’s dead._

You really were. You were doing just _fine_. Working for the Twelve again, you had a great house in a _nice_ neighbourhood, you had Dasha to hang out with sometimes, until she got annoying that is, and Barcelona _really_ worked for you and your skin - you were absolutely glowing, if you're honest. It worked better than any of your expensive moisturisers.

But Konstantin had to let you know, just like he has to ruin everything good every time, and now you know she’s alive and you find yourself in London, yet again. No more sun, no more glowing skin. Only shit London weather. Guess you're going back to moisturisers.  
Perhaps you were angry and did not pay attention when you shot her in Rome, or maybe you just needed more time to figure it all out. You are starting this mindset where you believe things happen for a reason now; you went to one class and you know what it is all about. Apparently, life is just funny like that.

It’s 7.45pm. You’re all dressed up, more than usual. Colourful blazer and trousers, high platform boots, expensive perfume, your hair down. Washed, soft, beautiful. Expensive shampoo and hair treatments. You wonder if she’ll notice - she’s never seen you with your hair down before. Today’s a special day, after all; she deserves a treat before you get yours.

_I dealt with it._

You sent her an invitation to the ball tonight, ‘be there at 8pm sharp’, you said. ‘Wear a nice dress and my favourite perfume’, you said. You thought about sending her something but you weren’t sure she’d listen. Her unpredictability has caused a lot of pain in the past for you, and you weren’t about to ruin your night for her. Not this time.

This time is going to be perfect. This time you will decide, once and for all, how to deal with Eve Polastri.

_**Kiss or kill?** _

It’s almost time and you walk into the crowd, your eyes searching. There are people around you and their shit dancing looks even shittier when it’s done to the shit music the shit DJ is playing. Everything is shit when Eve doesn’t show up.

There was a time you were so sure about what Eve would do. You knew her better than she did, you thought she was just like you and maybe she really was; but you didn’t realise how afraid she was of her own power; of her own feelings. Everything would’ve been perfect if she had just accepted your love. Accepted her own love for you. Instead, she broke your heart the way you _specifically_ asked her not to.

_**Kill.** _

You have everything figured out this time, when it finally comes to it. And it will: no more guns, no more of those knives that Eve loves so much. _Pfffft._ You will do it with your bare hands. Your fingers, your mouth, you’ll possess her from the inside, crawl into her chest and make a home there until Eve can take it no more. Personal, intimate and deadly.  
You would take her and turn her around, move Eve to the rhythm of whatever shit song the shit DJ was playing and then turn her and turn her and turn her again until she was dizzy. You would grip her waist and grab her neck and run your fingers through her beautiful hair and pull. Tell her she’s yours, once again. For the last time and forever. Then squeeze. Squeeze her neck until she claws at your hands, watch as her face turns a beautiful turquoise, sapphire, deep deep purple. Steal the last breath away from her.  
Or maybe you would drag her away from the dance floor and into a dark corner somewhere, bite her and scratch her and rip her up open, let hundreds and thousands of rubies trickle down her lips and her neck and paint your hands like a canvas. What a beautiful death.  
Or maybe your hands would slide from her neck and make their way down between her legs only to stop there and wait before Eve begs and screams and whispers for you to ruin her. And you would oblige because you know it would kill her; there’s a fine line between pleasure and pain, and both are as deadly as each other if you have anything to do with it. You’d corrupt her forever, make her heart stop from within while you’re buried deep inside her, never wanting to leave. Deafened by the beautiful noises you’d be making together, you’d taste her, devour her, maybe even die with her. Maybe _that's_ the way to go.

You snap out of it and then you see her. Right there, in the crowd, surrounded by shit dancers, she looks at you looking at her and you’re so so angry because she listened and she’s here, her beautiful hair is down and she’s wearing a tight black dress that clings to each and every one of her curves for dear life, probably anticipating you ripping it all off her later. After a few songs, maybe. Eve is beautiful and you are _very_ annoyed.

_I should have shot you in the head._

You watch her stand still as you slowly walk towards her. No quick movements - you don’t think she would run, not now that she’s actually here, in front of you, but you never know with Eve. She’s so full of surprises it almost makes you grin and even laugh a little. You don’t. You need her to know you are serious - tonight is not about being funny.  
You count your steps as you approach her, one two three four... sixty seven and you’re there, only a few feet away from her. Her face doesn’t say much and you raise an eyebrow. What are you going to do, Polastri? Wearing her (can it be?) _expensive_ dress and matching _expensive_ heels, her incredible curls trickling all the way down to her back, and the lipstick she’s wearing looks awfully familiar and you think maybe, just maybe, it’s the one that you gave her. She doesn’t move - it’s like she’s glued to the ground. You take one more step forward, showing her who’s boss. Assertive. Powerful. About to kill you, Polastri.  
She grins and you stop. She steps forward. The tables are turning. She looks so beautiful you could cry.

_**Kiss or kill?** _

“Are you leading or am I?” Eve asks and you nearly swallow your tongue. _Choke on it_ , Eve.

You don’t know what to say; for the first time in your life you are out of words. You try to open your mouth, breathless, soundless; your head starts spinning a little and you need to swallow all of the things that are bubbling up in your throat but you can’t because they don’t, they _won’t_ come up.  
She takes the lead. You can feel Eve’s arm sneak at your waist, she's gripping, pulling you close. You let her. Her left hand finds yours and places it on her shoulder. Her curls right at your fingers, tickling the back of your wrist and the insides of your rib cage. She looks at you, her dark eyes glistening even in the dim yellow light. You challenge her, staring deep into her soul, her brain, showing her, screaming from the inside all the things you want to do, you’re _going to do_ , how much you hate (love) her, what she’s done, how much she ruined every bit of you and how she is going to pay! Pay for every tear you now know you are able to shed and every breath you _didn’t_ take because she leaves your lungs empty every time. Her gaze never falters. Eve accepts your challenge and takes the lead, just as she’s doing right now and you're _dancing_. She's holding you close, tight, tighter, your chest against hers, her grip unyielding, face painfully close but not quite close enough.

**_Kiss or kill?_ **

One two three, one two three. Your legs move with hers, bodies swaying to the slow rhythm of the _not so shit_ song the shit DJ is playing. You want to laugh, almost, if your voice ever decides to make a comeback. She leads well, a small smile dancing on her lips, joining the fun. You didn’t expect this even if you knew she had it in her. You _made_ her. Turned her into who she is now, right this second, made her understand her own power. And now here you are - small and pitiful. Like a deer in headlights, unable to move unless she moves you like a force and leaves you for dead. It should be the other way around. You grit your teeth.

_I should have shot you in the head and watched you die._

Eve leans in closer, her cheek against yours. You feel her scent and _she’s wearing it._ Her heat, her breath at your ear, her lips soft and warm, almost touching:

“You’re being awfully quiet.”

“ _I_ asked you to come here.”

“And I did.”

“ _I_ should be the one leading.”

“Yet here we are.”

She pulls her face away, eyes finding yours again, brown and hazel staring at each other like killer and prey. You’re not really sure who’s who anymore.

And you can't help but tell her:

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She smiles. Your heart drops to the floor. If they listened carefully, you’re sure everyone in the room could hear it crash. That’s all _you_ can hear - where has the music gone? An echo of it in your ears, ringing like a symphony to the beat of your thumping brain. _Concerto No. 5._

Eve stops moving and you come to a halt with her. She breathes in and out, her smile now gone, but her hand never leaves your waist. You don't really know what you’re feeling anymore, it’s all a lot, _too much,_ but you _think_ she’s pulling you even closer, close enough for you to melt into her and possess her body, turn and twist her guts and consume her from the inside out. You’re sure she has the same idea as she stops you from shaking (you didn’t realise you were) and cups the side of your face. Just like she did before, all that time ago, after she stabbed you and let you bleed when all you wanted was-.. It feels like it’s been decades. You should’ve ended it then, shot her once, twice, _three times_ and be done with it. None of this would’ve happened. She wouldn’t have made you soft, like Konstantin said.

No. She hasn’t. You can still do it.

_**Kiss or kill?** _

“I know.” she whispers.

You can do it.

Grip tightens, insides start burning, your heartbeat goes crazy and Eve’s mouth is on yours.

You can’t.

Her tongue starts exploring and you join the dance. It’s not slow, it’s not elegant. It’s improvised and new and hot and all over the place, and one of you will get burnt and you’re sure it’s going to be you but you allow it. When did all the people disappear from the background?  
Hand in her hair, you’re the one pulling her closer now. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you melted into her. She’s warm and eager and so so beautiful and once again Eve Polastri has taken all the air out of your lungs but you’re okay with it now, as long as she keeps kissing you, tasting you, as long as you’re able to nip at her bottom lip and feel her smile in response and pull your face impossibly closer. As long as she craves to eat you alive, you know you will let her. You moan into her mouth.

_**Kiss.** _

She made the decision for you.

**Author's Note:**

> If Sunday doesn't bring us something similar, I swear to god-..  
> Come talk and cry with me @qgmon


End file.
